


Harding in Hightown

by thewightknight



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bad Puns, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 22:58:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15828660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewightknight/pseuds/thewightknight
Summary: When the Inquisitor visits Kirkwall, Scout Harding and Varric's reunion give her the perfect opportunity to remind him of the first time they met.





	Harding in Hightown

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MangoMartini](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MangoMartini/gifts).



> Entirely [MangoMartini](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MangoMartini/pseuds/MangoMartini)'s fault.

“Harding! I didn’t know you’d be coming.”

“What, and miss out on the chance to see your new digs?”

“Yeah, it’s a step up above a room over the tavern.”

The viscount’s keep still had a few suspicious stains under the carpets, and he’d never gotten around to replacing a lot of the statues, but on the whole it’d come through surprisingly intact, compared to the rest of the city.

“Look, I’ve got a day full of meetings that I can’t get out of, but how about dinner tonight? I’d love to catch up.”

“I’d love to.”

“Great. Bran, make sure my evening’s free.”

“But your excellency! There is the banquet tonight, with ….” Bran trailed off, as Varric had taken Lace’s arm.

“I’ve got a few minutes, though. Let me show you where Hawke faced off against the Arishok.”

Glaring at their retreating backs, Bran muttered something uncomplimentary, then sighed.

“Why do I even bother?”

 

Harding hadn’t packed anything fancy for the trip. Truth be told, she didn’t own anything fancy. She’d practically lived in her armor for years now, replacing bits as they wore out or took damage. Only one of the tunics she’d packed wasn’t stained and darned. Her leather pants would have to do. At least her boots took a shine well.

Surveying herself in the reflection of the wash basin, she shrugged. “He’s still only Varric.”

Bran sneered at her when she arrived, but she knew that his face was practically frozen that way so she ignored him. He escorted her up the stairs and handed her into the room with an overdone flourish.

“Serah Harding, of the Inquisition.”

“Yes, I can see that. Thank you, Bran. Don’t you have some underlings to scold in the other wing?”

The doors closed behind her with perhaps unnecessary force.

“He must be really good at his job.”

“Couldn’t run this place without him. He was provisional viscount after the qunari mess, you know. Hated every minute of it. Whenever he gets too bad I remind him that if I quit it’ll all get dumped back in his lap again. That shuts him up for maybe a half an hour.”

She’d been surreptitiously taking in her surroundings as they talked, and she felt shabbier with each passing second. Varric fit in seamlessly. He still dressed in the same style she remembered, but his shirt was now silk instead of cotton and she’d bet her horse that the embroidery was done in real gold thread. Shuffling her feet, she clasped her hands behind her to hide the fraying cuff.

Varric didn’t seem to notice her discomfort.

“Come on. They put out quite a spread here.”

One of the bookshelves in his office hid a door. It swung open to reveal a full set of rooms.

“This must come in handy if you feel like ducking out in the middle of the afternoon.”

“Yeah. The servants have finally stopped freaking out when I use their entrance.”

The rooms were as opulent as the office was but there were familiar touches here. Bianca hung on the wall over the desk. Paper covered every flat surface, and most of it didn’t look like official documents.

“Still writing?”

“I did promise Evelyn the Tale of the Champion, remember?”

“How’s it coming?”

“Slowly, but I’m almost there. Should hand it all off to my publisher by the end of next month.”

“I’m sure she’ll be thrilled, and Divine Victoria too.”

“Yeah, I’m going to hand-deliver a copy.”

“As publicly as possible?”

“Of course!”

He seemed nervous, she noticed. His eyes kept meeting hers, then sliding away, and his hands fluttered awkwardly, as if he was about to take her hand and then thinking better of it.

“Remember the first time we met?” she asked.

“Like it was yesterday.”

“Really?”

“How could I forget? We were walking down the path towards the crossroads and there you were, bow drawn. You took down three templars with three shots.”

“That’s not what I remember.”

“Oh?”

“You asked if I’d ever been in Kirkwall.” She turned to him, letting her hands trail down his chest. “And here I am now.”

“Yes you are.”

“So, Varric, how about it? Shall I make you,” she paused for effect, a twinkle in her eye, as her hands descended below his belt, “ _Hard in Hightown?”_

He groaned, both at the pun and at the caress of her fingers along the seam of her trousers.

“After that line, Lace, you can do whatever you want to me.”

“With pleasure, Viscount.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you want to say hi, [check out my profile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewightknight/profile) for where I’m currently hanging out on this here internet thing.


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